


words are hard

by aniku (jnkkgay)



Category: Given (Anime), Given (Manga)
Genre: But also, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Grief/Mourning, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, putting feelings into words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29628537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jnkkgay/pseuds/aniku
Summary: words are hard. there are too many and not enough, they’re too big and too small, too colorful and too dull and too misshapen and too form-fitting and there’s not a single fucking combination of them that can even begin to scratch the surface of how much hehurts.
Relationships: Satou Mafuyu/Uenoyama Ritsuka
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	words are hard

**Author's Note:**

> takes place after mafuyu is tasked with writing lyrics, and before he goes to the beach alone maybe? but certainly before the gig.

all people are not created equal.

mafuyu is intimately familiar with this, has always known this, because where yuki’s vocabulary repertoire was wide as the ocean, his feels more like the puddle by his feet as he waits for the crosswalk signal to change. 

rain falls around him—and on him, too, he supposes, but he’s shielded by the umbrella he’s holding—and when he looks back up from the puddle, he sees the world before him through a filter of clear film, obstructed in some places when raindrops hit the umbrella, streaking down the plastic and across his vision. that’s how things still look to him some days, even without an umbrella—not terribly distorted, but still a little hazy, enough to make him feel a little lost.

words are hard. there are too many of them, and yet, none are the right size to convey what he wants to say. it’s like he’s trying to solve a puzzle, but there are far too many extra pieces to even start thinking of sorting through them, and then learning that none of them fit the missing spots, anyway.

but ritsuka had asked—no, he’d insisted—that mafuyu write the lyrics.

_ “you have something you want to say, don’t you?” _

the signal changes from red to green, but mafuyu is distracted. his feet stay planted on the ground, watching raindrops fall into the puddle and making the tiniest of ripples, changing what’s reflected on the surface.

will mafuyu be able to move matter like that too, someday?

—

all people are not created equal, because if they were, mafuyu wouldn’t be sitting on his bed, typing out and deleting letters in the notes app on his phone, trying to formulate words to a song he doesn’t even know if he’s ready to face.

all people are not created equal, because if they were, maybe yuki would still be here, and he wouldn’t be stuck underneath a pile of emotional rubble—the only evidence that remains after yuki left and shifted the entire world as he knew it. 

and, if yuki were still here, he wouldn’t have to be writing lyrics in the first place.

mafuyu sets his phone down next to him and buries his head in his hands. the plastic film is back, even though it’s not raining, and he’s unable to see what’s in front of him clearly. he’s trying, desperately, to reach out and latch onto even a thread of something he’s feeling, to process it, to decipher and convert it into words that can be understood by others. but how could he possibly succeed, when a rain-dirtied filter prevents him from even seeing what’s in front of him?

words are hard. there are too many and not enough, they’re too big and too small, too colorful and too dull and too misshapen and too form-fitting and there’s not a single fucking combination of them that can even begin to scratch the surface of how much he  _ hurts. _

the phone mocks him, even with the screen turned off, so he flings it to a corner of his room and he gets under the covers. 

_ “we still have time, so. just do what you can.” _

ritsuka had said that himself, hadn’t he?

he’ll try again tomorrow.

—

mafuyu has always known that all people are not created equal. there might have been a time when he wondered why, wondered about a world in which everyone  _ was _ created equal. wondered how different things might be if he didn’t have a father who hit him when he spoke, if he hadn’t grown up fearing the consequences of putting his thoughts into words.

it’s no use wondering now, though, he’s learned.

all people are not created equal, but precisely  _ because _ people are not created equal, there’s ritsuka, who is certainly not mafuyu, who is not yuki, who tells mafuyu that his voice matters. 

people think that mafuyu doesn’t think. and mafuyu would be inclined to agree, sometimes, like when the plastic film appears before him, and it’s easier just to nod and say,  _ “un.” _

precisely  _ because _ all people aren’t created equal, there’s ritsuka, fisting at the neck of his shirt and shaking him, shouting,

_ “what do you mean, ‘you’re not good at expressing yourself’!? i invited you to the band because i was moved by your voice!” _

yuki wanted to give words to mafuyu, to write him a song, to express something  _ to _ him. maybe for him?

but ritsuka—he wants  _ mafuyu _ to give words to  _ him. _

_ “you have something you want to say, don’t you?” _

words are hard. they don’t come as easy to mafuyu as they do to others, as they did to yuki, even to ritsuka, and they probably never will.

but maybe, with ritsuka by his side, pushing him along, he’ll be able to lift some of the plastic film to see ahead, to find the words that fit what he’s looking to express from that overwhelming mountain of puzzle pieces.


End file.
